


Eric Richard Bittle is Gay.

by owllover625



Series: We Are. [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Homophobic Language, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:19:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9153175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owllover625/pseuds/owllover625
Summary: Eric Richard Bittle Jr. wasn’t gay until he knew he was. ‘Innocent until proven guilty.’ He whispered to himself every night. He ignored Coach’s football boys. They didn’t know, they couldn’t know. Could they know?





	

**Author's Note:**

> The We Are. series is a set of my works giving a story to most of the characters in the CheckPlease Universe each written in a different way. So far I have posted Jack's (first) part done in the second person. It's one of my favorite works I've written. You don't have to read in any order at all. I have started on Shitty's, Nursey's, and even Kent's. None of them will be posted immediately (like in the next week) but I hope to post them soon. If you want to give me suggestions or even just tell me about your thoughts of my work I'm [cherrypimms on tumblr](http://cherrypimms.tumblr.com/%E2%80%9D)

Eric Richard Bittle Jr. wasn’t gay until he knew he was. ‘Innocent until proven guilty.’ He whispered to himself every night. He ignored Coach’s football boys. They didn’t know, they couldn’t know. Could they know?

Eric “Coach” Bittle knew his son probably might be gay. His son! Little Dicky was allowed to be gay. But, he knew Jounior was gay. Maybe it was the way he saw him stare deeper into the cake batter when his wife would talk about ‘the gays’. Or maybe it was the way he made sure he never found himself alone with a girl as to not rise confusion. Or the way he would always be in a gaggle of football players so nobody was suspicious. He knew, if anyone knew how to hide, it would be Dicky. 

Susan Bittle knew her son was in no way gay. That thought had never actually crossed her mind. Because her son would not be a queer. He would completely tarnish the Bittle name, and she knew Eric wasn’t dumb enough for that. Not under her roof. Susan knew her son better than all those teenage boys that would throw such slurs around. 

B. Shitty Knight knew Bitty was gay. Shitty knows things. He knows lots about property laws, he knows when people do things if it was on purpose or not, and he knows Eric Richard Bittle was not heterosexual. He remembers a lot of things. He remembers when some guy cut open another dude’s jugular with his ice skate and blamed it on being an accident. He remembers the way Bitty looked so smitten when he looked at Jack Zimmermann Shitty almost awwed out loud. When Bitty came out to him later that year, he had never felt more honored, though he would never say it. Even now. 

Eric Richard Bittle loved being away from home, for the most time. He missed his kitchen, sure. You honestly can’t blame him. Have y’all seen Betsy; she was a sad little oven. He didn’t mind being coached by Jack ‘That Ass’ Zimmermann. He loved being by far the best baker any of those boys have ever seen. It was good to feel needed. To be coveted. 

Jack Zimmermann hated Eric Richard Bittle. He hated how he always baking pies, or mini-pies, or god forbid, cake. He hated how even though every bake sale, Bitty still managed to get to every practice on time. He hates how Bitty took one lucky shot and got on the front lines with the big boys. He hated the way Bitty’s accent complimented his own against too many strong accents reeking of Boston and the rest of boring America. Jack Zimmermann knew that he didn’t hate Bitty. But that was easier to accept. Jack craved being accepted. He needed that approval, and he would take it from anyone like a thirsty man given a glass of water. 

Chris “Chowder” Chow knows a little too much about a little too many people. He doesn’t always know things. He doesn’t know Chinese, even though he thinks he should. He doesn’t know Bitty was dating someone when it was right in front of him until he figures it out. Chowder lacks table manners. Bitty learned this the hard way after making everyone sit down and eat some southern comforts. If you asked Bittle what the best food was (that wasn’t baked goods,) he would say meatloaf and mac 'n' cheese. He shared this meal with his team and everyone joked he would make an amazing housewife. And that’s when it clicked in his head. “Bitty- you’re secretly dating someone!” Chowder shouted throwing his fork on the table and the table fell silent. And Chowder was happy for Bitty. 

When Bitty was outed, he wasn’t the only one to go down. Jack would go down with him. A sinking ship with no lifeboats. Everyone on the team knew Bitty was gay. Nobody cared. But when Chowder made that connection, in front of everyone, Bitty didn’t know what to say. “Chowder, bless your heart, but this ain’t proper dinner discussion,” he said with a sickeningly sweet smile. Jack Zimmermann didn’t like Chowder anymore. “Everyone leaves him alone, eh?” he said, his voice harsh and cold. “We have everyone’s back here and Bitty didn’t want anyone to know, otherwise he would’ve told us.” 

Everyone wanted to know who Bitty’s paramour was. Jack wanted a break. Shitty would ask if Jack knew who he was. Jack would groan. “No, I told you, Shitty.” Shitty would laugh loudly and turn back to a group of frogs, “Oh he knows!” He tells them through laughter. Some of the braver teammates would just ask Bitty. 

Adam “Holster” Birkholtz was one of the braver ones. Bitty and Holster listened to music together. A lot. So one day while they were lounging in the kitchen while Bitty was cooking up a storm, Holster got brave. “So who is he?” He asked. His voice is like normal. It was like he asked about Georgia, and Bitty takes the beer he had been steadily nursing for the past hour and took a large sip. “If I wanted to tell y’all, I would’a. But I didn’t and I can assure you that I plan to keep it that way.” He said his voice reverting to such a sweet tone, Holster was worried he might have a cavity. 

When summer comes, Bitty was excited to invite Jack over for the Fourth of July. His Mama talks about him like he’s a hockey god, and Coach didn’t care much about hockey, but he was excited to hear Eric had finally befriended a man, actually, Coach was quite happy. 

In Georgia, Bitty isn’t Bitty, or Number 15, or Bits. He’s Eric or Dicky or Junior or Coach Bittle’s Son. No part of him relishes in the change but he smiles and responds. Because that’s what you do here. You smile and create sickening sweet lies here. 

Eric drags Jack all over Madison the first few days he was there but stops when he saw Jack take a step back every time Eric gets within arms distance. If Eric was honest with himself he would be hurt. He would knock on the guest’s room door and demand Jack explains what god blessed thing he was doing. But Eric Richard Bittle was great at lying to himself. He was amazing at it.

It was the fourth of July when Eric drags Jack into the backyard to look at fireworks. The two of them are sitting on the ground, staring at the sky. The sky is littered with bright colors, blues, reds, silvery whites. Bitty puts his head on Jack’s chest because that’s what they always do. When Jack inches aways, Bitty frowns but says nothing. He sits straight and proper like a good boy and ignores the way Jack moves even farther off the blanket he had set up for the two of them. 

Eric found how he didn’t feel like Bitty in Georgia. He thinks maybe Jack likes Bitty and not Eric. Maybe that’s why down here he’s so quick to step out of the kitchen from an accidental brush while Eric’s baking. Up north he understands, Bitty understands. But Eric doesn’t. Not down here. Down here is Eric’s court. He shouldn’t let Jack take over, but that’s what both Eric and Bitty are used to.

Once Jack leaves, Eric thinks quietly, it’ll be back to normal. The South does something to people. It turns them into their worst selves. Eric didn’t want to admit it, but he’s even found himself to be more judgmental down here. That doesn’t mean that makes what his mother is saying okay. His mother, Susan Bittle is saying things that would make Shitty fidget uncomfortably. “I mean honestly- how can such a nice girl like Jenny-Jenny! Have a gay phase. Oh god, bless her heart. Dicky, sweetie didn’t you take her to homecoming freshman year of high school?” She asked at the dinner table. There’s no escape. He has to answer. “We didn’t go as a couple, we just went as friends. Neither of us was really in the place to date.” He looks at the irony of his words. They were in the type of place where dating who they truly loved could kill them. There is no such thing as a hate crime in Georgia. That scares him almost as much as the uncensored venom in his mother’s voice. 

Coach tells Eric they’re going fishing the next day after dinner. He nods obediently. Eric just needed to leave the house, even if that meant being stranded in a pond with his father for hours, it couldn’t be worse than the things he’s heard his mother say. 

Eric calls Shitty that night. He feels bad, he really does, that he can’t handle this by himself. He’s been trying to handle it himself. 

Eric learns he won’t handle it by himself. He has people now. People who love him unconditionally for no good reason he can think of but fuck if he doesn’t love it. 

There’s a place Eric and his father go whenever one of them wants to talk. It’s called Cross Roads Catfish Pond. It’s not terribly big. They sit on a shore and talk, tackle box between the two acting as a buffer. They’re close enough to bump shoulders if they both work a little and lean. 

It’s empty. It normally is at six am. Coach sets down the the tackle box and sits to its left and Eric on his right. Neither really like catfish, it tastes funky and it can be flavorless when Susan cooks it (she does this on purpose. She can’t stand the smell of fish that lingers so she hoped the poorly cooked fish would make the two stop bringing it home. She is incorrect.). 

Eric is clad in a sweatshirt, a teeshirt underneath, jeans, and a pair of old sneakers. Coach is wearing a flannel and a polo shirt from the high school down the road from their house, and a pair of khaki shorts and loafers. Eric is on edge, ready to defend any attack his father may try and spew. Coach is looking thoughtfully at the water. “Your mother is an interesting woman, Junior,” he starts. “She ain’t always smart in what she says either, I ain’t a big fan of that.” He almost turns to look at Eric. He doesn’t move. “Some people down here, like your Mama, say some not smart things; but I’m sure you’re real familiar with that sort of stunt some of ‘em pull and get away with.” Neither Eric nor Coach know where this is going. But at the same time they both where this is going. 

Coach doesn’t say anything for a long time. He knows what he wants to say: “Eric, I’m gonna love you till I’m dead and even in Heaven I’ll be rooting for you. I don’t care about what you do. Kill somebody and I’ll still be in your corner. That won’t change if your gay.” Coach looks to Eric, “If we haven’t caught nothin’ yet we probably won’t for the rest of the day.” Coach says instead. Eric grunts, “we going then?” he asked, and Coach nods. Eric flies home the next week, almost a whole month earlier than planned. 

Back in New England, Eric becomes Bitty again and it feels like the planets aline. When he get’s in Jack’s fancy black car and kisses him softly. “Hey honey,” escape his lips and everything Jack did Georgia is slipping to the back of his mind. Jack kisses him in the safety of lowered curtains and in empty rooms. To Bitty, this is okay, he wants doors open, and window shades uncovered. To Eric, this is fantastic, there is a boy he enjoys in front of him. 

Bitty understands that he won’t come out anytime soon. He is gay. He is happy. He isn’t out to everyone. That doesn’t invalidate who he is. Because he is so, so goddamned happy. He is gay. He is happy. But most importantly: He is gay. Eric Richard Bittle is gay and he is happy.


End file.
